


paint white roses red

by ImaginationWell



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Dystopian World, I'll add more tags as the story progresses, Kinda, Mafia AU, Multi, Organized Crime, idk how to tag this, it's the crime syndicate vs the corrupt government, more like a crime syndicate, my 2 faves, people get caught up in between + sometimes fall in love, smut & angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2018-12-12 12:02:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11736645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaginationWell/pseuds/ImaginationWell
Summary: The Hanzai Soshiki - the largest crime syndicate in the world - is rooted in Japan. The government is falling apart at the seams, corruption leaking through its crumbling plaster; the people are terrified and the world seems to be breaking from its very core.Enter the players. Akaashi Keiji and Bokuto Koutarou are the government's top snipers, part of a remaining few who still believe in the ultimate cause of destroying Hanzai. Iwaizumi Hajime and Oikawa Tooru are part of the most feared elite sub-team of assassins in the syndicate. Kiyoko Shimizu, a double agent, part of Hanzai's DA team infiltrating the government's whereabouts. And the recruits, Kageyama Tobio and Hinata Shoyou, sent on secret missions to kill each other.Or: the world is going to hell but so are we so might as well fall in love





	1. Chapter 1

The wind hurls itself across the streets, launching itself at the sides of buildings, at the barks of trees; it forces the treetops back violently, leaves rustling against each other as they try to fight against the invisible force. Lamp posts creak under its presence, statues shudder, branches fall. Lightning streaks across the sky, illuminating the cityscape in dull gray brilliance, for one, two, three seconds, before disappearing again. It crawls silently across the sky, weaves through the clouds, making itself seen only on rare occasions. Sometimes it comes in flashes. Sometimes it is accompanied by thunder. The thunder is uncommon; sometimes it is short, appearing in a burst, and sometimes it is drawn out, its echo bouncing against the skyscrapers for four, five, six seconds.

Then comes the rain. It comes fleetingly at first, insignificant droplets of water, splattering against the cement of the sidewalk. Rain always starts off slow, drops falling seven, eight, nine times in a row, until it comes suddenly and violently, smashing against the road and windows and stop lights and parked cars and apartment and balconies; against the trees and fountains and the street signs. It plummets toward the ground, falling mercilessly on anything that comes in its way.

During storms like these, people had no place outside, amid the rain and thunder and lightning. And yet, somehow, eight people had found their way among the havoc. One of them is twirling a knife in her hand. Another is clutching a gun in trembling fingers. One is creeping through alleyways. Another is pressed against the side of a building, Beretta in hand. One is scaling a brick building. Another follows behind, with an assault rifle strapped to his back. One is perched on a rooftop, assembling a sniper rifle. Another stands behind him, binoculars to his eyes.

Eight people, with nothing in common.

 

* * *

 

The kill is quick. The knife goes in, then comes out. No excess blood. The pounding rain washes away any that was there in the first place. The man is put in a large body bag, and dumped in the nearest dumpster. Kiyoko twirls her knife in her fingers, then puts it away in her jacket. Walks away from the crime scene. She’s sure no one sees her.

 

* * *

 

“Akaashi, _look_ ,” Bokuto exclaims in a bright burst of energy, “I just saw a woman _kill_ a man!”

“That’s not something you should be excited about, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi responds over the roar of the rain. He looks up anyway. “Where?”

Bokuto hands him the binoculars, guiding them to the alleyway where he saw her.

“Do you see her? She’s heading south on 35th now.”

Akaashi follows her, trying to zoom in on her face. It’s no use, though. The rain blurs everything he sees into a watery mess. All he notices are her black clothes and hair. It could be anyone.

“Should I go follow her?” Bokuto asks, but Akaashi is already shaking his head.

“It’s too dangerous, and you’re supposed to stay at my side for the whole time. Plus, she’s probably a contract killer, which gets messy when it comes to legality. We need to stay out of it. Our business is strictly government sanctioned.”

“That’s exactly why I should go! We need to arrest her; _Akaashi_ , she just _killed_ a guy!” Bokuto bounces on his toes, squinting his eyes in the direction the woman had gone. “If we don’t hurry, we’ll lose her!”

But Akaashi just sighs and shakes his head again. “Contract killing is messy business; trust me Bokuto-san, you don’t want to get caught up in it. There are parts of the government that have personal, illegal ties with the crime syndicate. If you get involved, there’s no telling what could happen. The woman might get released and you might end up in jail.”

Bokuto’s mood falls extraordinarily fast. “That’s _messed up_.”

Akaashi turns back to his rifle, trying to drown out the thunder and rain. “I agree. But they’re also the ones signing our paychecks. Keep on the lookout, Bokuto-san.” He lets out a deep sigh, and points south, toward a building on the corner of the street opposite them. “Oikawa-san should be scaling that building any moment now.”

 

* * *

 

 

“Oikawa. You’re scaling the wrong building.”

Oikawa barely hears her over the rain. He grabs onto Hajime’s leg, tugging him lightly to get his attention. He turns around, murder on his face, before he sees Kiyoko standing on the ground. Oikawa nods, and jumps quietly onto the ground.

“They know our position,” he asks, already knowing the answer. Kiyoko nods. Hajime purses his lips.

“You killed him?”

Kiyoko nods again. “They’re expecting you to—”

Hajime stops her. “No one saw you?”

Kiyoko shakes her head impatiently. “You need to go, now. They expect you to be at the top of that building in eight minutes. You have that much time to get to 208, which is right behind the building Akaashi is on. If you take them by surprise, you can’t lose.”

Then she is gone, disappearing into the night, melting into the thundering rain. Oikawa turns and grins at Hajime, his eyes sharp and cold. They still make him shudder.

“Get ready to sprint, Iwa-chan,” he asks, eyes glinting, “Bet I can get there before you.”

Hajime scowls. “You’re on, trashykawa.”

 

* * *

 

 

Kageyama’s head hurts.

Actually, it _burns_.

The rain _pounds_ against his skull and thunder rips apart his eardrums.

He is supposed to kill a man tonight, and god knows there is enough anger in him to do so, but Kageyama feels like collapsing in a puddle and dying for a few minutes because the pain is coursing through his head like a thousand burning hot metal threads. His ears are ringing, his vision is going blurry, and _goddamnit_ he was not going to die.

He takes a step forward, towards an alley, away from streetlights and peering eyes. The water splashes under his feet, (although the splash doesn’t seem to coordinate with his step), and reaches out for the black metal of an alleyway fire escape. There is a splash again, but this time is doesn’t coordinate with his own footstep at all. There is another splash.

And then a gunshot.

All Kageyama remembers is blinding, excruciating pain, and a glimpse of orange.

 

* * *

 

Kiyoko’s knife is tucked securely in her jacket (among others), and she pulls her hood up as she snakes through alleyways. The map of this city is etched permanently into her brain, and she can’t remember a time when she didn’t know every back street that led to the syndicate’s headquarters. She lets out a breath she didn’t she’d been holding, eyes treacherously closing as fatigue pulled at her. The combination of eight ounces of espresso and the adrenaline that comes with killing is wearing off scarily quickly. _Your tolerance is building_ , a voice whispers in her head. Kiyoko scowls, and does not dwell on whether the tolerance is for the coffee, or for the killing.

As she gets closer to the HQ, the rain starts to ease off, the roaring fall of the rain starting to recede into a quiet hum. She lets herself forget, for a moment, about everything; about the bloodstains and tear-streaked faces and pudgy faces of the corrupt politicians that ruled the fate of the world. She forgets herself and she loses herself, but suddenly the image is shattered and reality comes rushing back because the smell of a smoking gun is filling her nostrils and  _bang_ of a gunshot is ringing in her ears.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this i my first multi chap fic and who knows when i'm going to update bc i started this first chapter july 2016 OTL
> 
> but yeah thx for reading & commenting (hint wink hint)
> 
> also akaashi sighing 3 times in the span of 224 words is my aesthetic


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorry im sorry i swear

Hinata flattens himself against the cold brick of the building, the water soaking straight through his sleeves to his very bones. His Kevlar, also waterlogged, weighs against him, and there’s a part of him that wants to sit down and maybe sleep for a year.

But there’s a bigger part of him that wants to destroy every last remaining Hanzai member and see their legacy burn to the ground.

His adrenaline starts pumping again, his vision gets sharper; he knows Akaashi and Bokuto are a few buildings down, assembling; he knows that across the street Oikawa and Iwaizumi -  _ the best assassin duo in the history of the Hanzai _ , he thinks, a little jealously - are setting up, unknowingly walking right into a trap. And he knows his target,  _ the King _ , is nearby; he had intel that he would be staking out in a building two down from where Oikawa is.

He breathes in, tightens his grip on the semi-automatic, and begins inching towards the edge of the building. The rain starts slowing down, which makes his footsteps and breathing louder; he panics, for a second, but he doesn’t have to time address that because Hinata turns the corner and his breath catches and the world stops spinning and  _ why the hell is he here? _

Kageyama Tobio, Hinata’s target and  _ archenemy _ , is leaning heavily against the side of the building, his eyes closed and his breathing so labored Hinata can hear it 20 feet away. The world slows and blurs, and he cannot see anything except the sight of Kageyama, wounded, weak, a  _ sitting duck _ ; there are a lot of questions that he should’ve been asking, like  _ why the hell is he a quarter mile away from where Suga-san said he would be? Was the intel wrong? Has there been a breach?  _ But Hinata is not one for contemplative decisions; he is reckless and volatile, so he steps forward, clicks the safety, holds up the gun, and —

Kageyama’s head snaps up and storm blue and terrified eyes stare at Hinata, uncomprehending, and Hinata’s hand falters for half a second, before he pulls the trigger.

* * *

  _One Week Ago_

Bokuto was sitting at a round table in an old meeting room, in an abandoned government building. He was especially restless that day, partly because he was sitting next to Akaashi, and partly because their upcoming assignment was the most dangerous one yet. Suga-san and Sawamura-san, heads of their department (less because of their technical know-how, and more because of their joint ability to discipline a room full of hyperactive assassins), were standing next to a hologram layout of the city.

“Hinata,” Suga continued, “You, on the other hand, will be on the ground, four buildings down from Akaashi. Kageyama will be stationed in the building right across from you, two down from where Oikawa will be setting up.”

Hinata was bouncing in his seat; his fingers were drumming against his thigh, and yet, his face was focused, his hazel, almost  _ amber _  eyes tracing over the layout of the city, following every street and back alley.

Bokuto turned to Akaashi suddenly. “What if this doesn’t work?” he asked. Akaashi turned to him, surprise flicking across his features at the abrupt question.

“Our entire life revolves around the hope of our plans working, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi responded, and Bokuto couldn’t help but grin. How was he supposed to stay nervous when he would have Akaashi by his side? Akaashi smiled, slightly, and added, “And you needn’t worry. Unless we have a traitor among our midst, there’s no way the Hanzai could get their hands on this info. Only six people are privileged enough to know it.”

_ Himself, Akaashi, Suga and Sawamura, Hinata, and Kiyoko Shimizu _ . He couldn’t fathom any of them working for Hanzai; for Oikawa Tooru.

Bokuto looked over to Akaashi again, staring, maybe a little too long, at the curve of his lips and the arch of his throat, at his high cheekbones and his impossibly long eyelashes.

_ It’s the end of the world _ , Bokuto chastised himself,  _ thirsting after your kouhai should not be at the top of your priority list _ . But another voice nagged at him, clawing its way into his brain, burrowing a hole in his conscience, a distraction that he couldn’t shake off:  _ It’s the end of the world. If not now, then when _ ?

* * *

 

Oikawa isn’t really running; he’s  _ racing _ . Adrenaline is coursing through his veins, distorting his perception; his vision tunnels, and all he knows is his destination and Hajime running next to him.

They wind through the alleyways, the sound of the water splashing underneath their feet drowned out by the steady thrum of the rain. They don’t need to think about the turns and the serpentine roads, because this city is as familiar as the back of their hand. They grew up here, watched it turn from a gleaming metropolis to a crumbling wasteland.

They’re close. He can count the number of buildings away from their destination, and Oikawa can taste the golden taste of victory on his tongue; they’re  _ so close _ ; and suddenly, a gunshot pierces the air and his ears are ringing and he can’t hear anything and the smell of gunpowder is invading his nostrils and his lungs and his eyes and  _ oh my god is that  _ Tobio _? _

Before Oikawa can do anything reckless, he feels Hajime grab his arm - “Ow, Iwa-chan!” - pulling him into an alleyway. His breathing is labored, face covered in soot, and he looks  _ really pretty _ \--

“That was Tobio. Bleeding. On the ground. One block away from his position.” And Hajime’s urgent voice is all Oikawa needs to  _ snap the fuck out of it, goddamn, _ -

“It’s Akaashi’s new recruit. The one Kiyoko told us about, the little shit,” Oikawa forces his thinking to come into focus, to drown out anything other than the task at hand. “Fuck, then, we have to kill him too. Akaashi is only three buildings down, but they’re on the roof, which is ten stories up-”

“Which means the chances of them hearing the gunshot is slim,” Hajime finishes. “Plus, it’s not like gunshots are uncommon to hear, especially in the business district.”

They look at each other.

And in unspoken words, go off in separate directions.

Oikawa arrives at the scene of the gunshot, where all he finds is a semi automatic with empty chambers on the gravel of the alleyway. The recruit and Tobio are nowhere to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading!!! i don't really know what im doing and im really not good at this whole writing thing but thank you for staying with me and reading this, it makes me so happy. comments from my last chapter were the motivation to get me to finally write this chapter and publish it because it's been like 3 months. again, thank you for reading this and leaving comments and kudos; it means the world to me.


End file.
